


Red Dirt

by catastrophage



Series: In Memory of Troy [8]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Borderline Personality Disorder, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Explicit Injuries, Friends to Enemies, Guns Are Fired, Hinted Jealousy, Hinted Suicidality, Hinted former Relationship/Bromance, Language, M/M, Off-Screen Events Explained, s03ep06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage
Summary: How could Mike prefer any other place to the ranch?"To hell with this," Troy mumbled. Jimmie was right, he thought.Tracking Mike down and beating his ass into the ground would be a start.





	Red Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet expands Day 45/46 of the _Diary of Sorts_. It is linked to my previous [Troy/Mike story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13966929). It also contains [the secret keeper](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103640)'s last secret. While each of the stories can be read on their own, for the best reading experience I recommend reading all three. There are little hints in each pointing to the others.
> 
> The story covers the murder of the Trimbol family that happened off-screen in the series. The title refers to the series episode of the same name. Troy/Mike - in this story - is just a vague memory of the past. It's the sad end that was bound to come. It is bloody, angry and violent.  
> I'm gonna give you feels. Consider yourself warned. I hope you can forgive me ♥

**Red Dirt**

It was cold and dark outside when he left the ranch house. He had sneaked past his father's study, only to notice it was empty anyway. A light up in Jake's home told him that he didn't need to worry about his brother either.  
Troy was alone.

Down the hill - there was no need to go through the bush and tumbleweed. Not tonight. He had a reason to be out tonight, he had all reasons in the world.  
Ten minutes later, Troy left the stables with a horse of his choice. A tall mare, whose owner he believed to be dead by now. It had been one of the boys from Phil's squad, as far as Troy remembered.

It was Jimmies shift at the gate. Troy had arranged it, a mere hour before. He had suggested it after all - to track Mike down and beat his ass into the ground.  
"Open the gate, Jimmie."  
Troy had this nervous tick of running his tongue over his chapped lips. He gnawed at a piece of skin, ran a hand through the mare's mane, before holding her reins again. But his eyes never left Jimmie's face. His determined, piercing blue eyes.  
_Cold as the eyes of a killer,_ Jimmie thought when he closed the gate again. And he didn't mind it. If anything, he admired Troy for going out, trying to make a change.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

A loud thud was heard in the driver's cabin, then another and another. Finally, the screeching noise of metal grazing the frame of the RV. Vernon hit the brakes and turned on the street, facing back towards the ranch, the headlights on Troy and his horse.

_Five. Six. Seven..._

_Eighteen. Nineteen._

Bullets were raining onto the RV, piercing the side of the vehicle as it turned. Mike had stopped counting. He had heard a loud moan from the inside, sounding all the way to the cabin. _Mom,_ he thought. _That was mom._  
The next moment the window to his side burst, then the bullets started hitting the windshield. Instinctively, Mike ducked down. From the corner of his eye he could see his father doing the same. Then his hand reached for the door handle.

Vernon and Mike both left the cabin. Another couple of shots fell, this time from Vernon who had fired at Troy on his way around the cabin, towards the door of the trailer. Troy answered.

_Twenty._

_Twenty-One._

Then Mike raised his hands and shouted at him. "Stop! Troy - for God's sake - stop!"  
Troy lowered his rifle. His eyes followed the trail of dark blood on the ground that led from the side of the RV to its door, barely distinguishable from the road at night. Apparently his last shot had hit Vernon, maybe an artery in the legs. A smile played around the corners of his mouth and he got down from his mare.

"Your-"  
Troy swallowed. He tried to suppress the smile, this was serious after all. If not for him, then at the very least for Mike. "Your father got injured, Mike. You should return... get that wound looked at."

"Troy..."  
For a moment Mike's mouth just stood open, but he quickly regained his composure. They were at a point far beyond a peaceful discussion, Mike understood as much. He wanted to leave, not just for his parents sake - but he also didn't want to anger Troy further. He looked down at his friend's hands, still holding the rifle. The finger still near the trigger, even now that he had lowered the barrel. "You're under stress, Troy. I get that. A lot of things have happened. You didn't sleep enough."

Now Troy looked down as well, looked at his own hands. A sigh left his lips, then his shoulders trembled slightly - as if he was chuckling. "No - heck no. I didn't get a lot of sleep."

Mike tried it again, slowly approaching the taller. "You're dealing with a lot. The militia, the depot. Charlie is dead. It's no wonder you're not quite yourself."

"Is that so? I'm not quite myself?" Troy raised his head to look into Mike's eyes. "What about you, Mikey? Running away now after all those years..."

One more step, and Mike had reached the rifle. He pushed it aside with his leg, made sure Troy couldn't shoot him. "This is wrong, Troy. It won't solve anything. You can't stop me, you can't _control_ me."

"I'm _not_ trying to control you," Troy barked back at him. "All I ask is for you to stay at the ranch. Stay around, be a friend."

Mike parted his lips, but no words would come out. What should he tell him - that he couldn't be with him anymore? That he had started to withdraw from him after he had seen him kill Matt. That he thought Troy was enjoying his militia duties a tad too much. Troy's words from earlier resounded in his ears. _People died for us, Mike._ And in his thoughts Mike answered. _No, Troy. You killed them._

"Let's just go back. Don't leave me like that."

Why couldn't he let him make his own decisions? It had always been Troy. When he went to school Troy had waited for him at the gates. When he was with friends, Troy was around. When he studied, Troy would complain... and when Mike told him not to complain, he would still come over to bring him drinks and offer to quiz him for his next exam. Going to college was the first time he had spent a couple of months away from Troy - and Mike had secretly enjoyed it. After the outbreak it took just a couple of days for him to feel caged again. Wherever he went, Troy's eyes were on him. _What are you doing, Mike? Where are you going? Are you okay? Don't be a polly!_  
But Mike knew better than telling Troy what he thought and felt. He didn't have much of a choice anyway, if he had stayed at the ranch he needed to get along with him. And he didn't even dislike him... Troy could be pretty cute at times. He was intelligent, charismatic, passionate... and caring. Surprisingly kind, once he liked someone. Troy was tea in the morning, secret dates in the stables, and deep conversations all night long. He would support his friends when they were in trouble, and he would always come up with new thoughts.

And he also was a killer.

It had been Vernon's idea to leave, but Mike never opposed it. He had been relieved to hear his plans. A new start, somewhere else. It was what Mike needed. Not necessarily just to be away from Troy, but to finally live his own life.  
Letting his shoulders drop, Mike turned away and went back to the trailer. If Troy wanted to kill him, he had already done it. And indeed - Troy's voice was a little softer again. A little throaty even, Mike could hear that he was close to tears.

"At least say goodbye. Can you do that? You owe me... you owe me a goodbye."

Finally Mike found some words to answer. He was surprised about himself, how calm he was in this situation.  
"Don't tell me what to do, Troy. I will go look for my parents and Gret. You've hit them, pray to God that you didn't kill them." 

" 'that a threat?"

Mike turned towards Troy. "You know as good as I do that it'll make things complicated. That's what you do. You hurt people, you corrupt them. You make things complicated."

"So it's on me now?" Troy followed him with slow steps. "You are leaving me, Mike. Ever since you moved to college. You're ignoring me, you're avoiding me. And now you're leaving me. Gonna find yourself some new friend, aren't you? Someone better than me - someone less complicated."

Mike just shook his head and turned around again. That Troy could ever think so... he had not noticed they had come this far. He knew Troy had problems getting turned down. No matter how much he had joked about it, Mike had noticed him trying harder each time he was rebuffed. He knew of Troy's doubts, of his struggles. But these accusations - Troy was exaggerating. He sounded like a jealous girlfriend.

"You know - it's just you. Coop is staying. Blake is staying. And Nick, he's been around for barely a week and he's already well aware of how things are, how they should be."  
Troy laughed. It was a dry chuckle, a hysteric little discharge of tension.  
Meanwhile Mike just sighed. _Nick._ Troy was comparing him with _Nick._

"Go screw Nick, if he makes you happy," Mike mumbled. He wasn't sure if any sound had left his lips, if Troy had heard him. He wasn't sure if he wanted him to. He couldn't really mean to compare them. Neither Coop nor Blake had a family. And Nick was a junkie, of course he didn't mind taking risks. Hell - Troy was probably already in love with him. The way he mentioned him... Mike suppressed a shudder. He himself wouldn't even touch Nick with a stick. _A junkie._ He was the definition of people they couldn't trust.  
Apparently Troy had not heard him. _Good,_ Mike thought.

"Don't ignore me, Mike. You hurt me. You probably don't even know how much it fucking hurts."

But he did. He was tired of his control, his twisted sense of justice. _No more._ He went back to the RV and reached for the door. Troy closed his eyes and breathed out. Just when Mike's hand touched the door handle, he pulled up his rifle and fired.

_Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five._

Mike flinched and threw himself to the ground, the hands covering his head. Smoke was coming from the holes in the vehicle right before him. 

"Mike... stay. You promised to be my friend. Now be my friend, Mike."

"No I won't. You're demanding too _fucking_ much." He inhaled sharply before he got up again and continued to speak. "I've always been your friend. You know me, I know you. And I knew you wouldn't take it well, that's why I didn't tell you I'm leaving. I went in silence because it was better for both of us."

Troy snorted again. Apparently Mike did not know him very well, or he would know how little he tolerated liars. Because that's what Mike's silence was to him. A lie. "A friend would have told me he's leaving. He wouldn't withdraw without telling what's up. He'd come to me and tell me." The last words Troy had yelled.

Again, silence overshadowed the scenery. Troy wasn't sure, but he thought he had seen Mike roll his eyes. A thought came to his mind, and it stuck there. It stung in his heart and made his breath heavy. Did Mike hate him now?  
"Don't hate me."

"I don't."  
He really didn't hate him. He had loved him, almost as much as Troy did. Loved him as his silly friend who was always overstepping his borders. Now it was on Mike to chuckle quietly. No voice, not even small huffs, just his shoulders trembled and he had trouble keeping his emotions in check. Troy's predictable way of making accusations was almost entertaining, if the situation just wasn't so serious, dangerous even. And the next moment he almost felt like crying, because he realized what he would say next was going to hurt them both. A painful little lie to cover up that he was, in fact, scared of the other. "I don't care enough anymore... to hate you."

Troy dropped the rifle. _Finally,_ Mike thought. But the next moment, Troy's fist landed in his face and he pushed him back against the vehicle. Then another push, and Mike stumbled towards the horse trailer, holding his jaw. He knew he had overstepped his borders. Now he could as well go on.  
"Gonna take me for a ride, huh? Like we used to..."

Troy's hand trembled. He wanted to punch Mike again, if just for the mocking tone he used to speak of their sacred days out in the desert. But instead he reached for his pistol. "Yeah. Gonna take you on your last ride, Mikey."

Mike could feel the adrenaline push through his veins. Troy didn't want to kill him, did he? If he had wanted it, he would be dead already. On the other hand, one _never_ knew with Troy. "Come on, do it."

"Don't make me."

"You can't do it, huh?"

Troy looked into his eyes. What he thought he saw was hate, disdain. Nothing would be like before - never again. _You're dead to me, Mike._

_Twenty-Six._

The gunshot echoed through the night, and when Troy lowered his pistol, he realized it was over. Mike wouldn't apologize. He wouldn't say goodbye. No more words would leave his lips.

Troy watched his friend cough blood, then he sank down, leaning against the wall of the trailer. He could hear a whimper, then more wet coughing.

_Twenty-Seven._

_Twenty-Eight._

Was it rage that made him fire more shots? Troy couldn't tell himself. His heart raced, his hands started shaking again. The second shot missed and hit the metal frame of the trailer. The third only grazed Mike's arm. But as he aimed for Mike's heart and watched him bring up more blood, another thought crossed his mind.  
_He better finished his job._ Mike shouldn't die bleeding out from his stomach.

_Thirty..._

_Thirty-Seven._

_Thirty-Eight._

Troy fired ten more shots and with each his heart hurt more, and his arm felt heavier. His view blurred. He could hear some bullets hit the vehicle. But he couldn't see them, and he didn't count his hits. After the last shot he sank down to his knees and just listened.  
No more coughing. No more sounds coming from Mike.

There was a difference between killing an animal and a human. And an even bigger difference between killing a stranger and killing the man he loved. A difference in the effort it took to cross that line. A difference in how much it hurt.  
Troy wiped away his tears on the sleeve of his shirt and scooted over towards Mike. He didn't care about dragging his legs through the dirt of the street. He didn't care about the blood soaking his shirt when he hugged Mike. He didn't care about a lot of things.

 _"I'm sorry."_  
Just a whisper. He could feel his voice stuck in his throat, he knew any sound he would make would be high-pitched and weak. Instead he continued to whisper until he found his voice again, rough and nearly breaking. "It shouldn't have come this far. We shouldn't."

In the dim shine of the headlights Troy could see the holes in the vehicle. But he could also see the dark stains on Mike's light jacket. And on his skin. He must have hit his carotid when he hit his neck. Troy quickly closed his eyes and held Mike close again.  
"No more suffering."

He had to repeat it on his mind, to ease his own pain. _No more suffering._ Mike's life was over. He would have to leave him soon, and then there was no return.  
"I'm gonna miss you, Mike. You'd been good to me. You said things, did things. Things nobody else would ever do for me. I was so glad when you came back to the ranch. That's how it was supposed. You, me and the Sonoran sunset. I needed you, I needed you so much but you weren't there. You left me, Mike. You left me."

Troy raised his gun to Mike's head.  
"And now you're gone."

_Thirty-Nine._

The shot was so close that Troy could feel the impact in his own arm that was still holding Mike's shoulders. A cold shudder ran down his spine. But he had to do it... he couldn't allow him to turn. Not Mike.

Just one bullet was left in his handgun.  
He turned it in his hands. It was a nice gun. A good gun. It would be a fast death. _And why not?_ The world was ending. Natives were attacking the ranch. Jeremiah was drinking again. Mike... was gone. _And he had thought about doing it so many times before._

There was a rumbling inside the trailer and Troy thought it could be Mike's family starting to turn. They would soon roam this place, cover traces with their own bloody trails. But then he could just hear the door open. He raised his head and saw Gretchen leaving the vehicle, her eyes red and swollen. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and Troy could see the wet shine on her skin reflect the light, until she turned her face to the shadows, to look at him.

For a long moment they just looked at each other. Troy had not been aware she had been in the trailer. _Of course she had._ He had not thought as far when he was fighting with Mike.  
From the little he could see in the night, Gretchen seemed confused. She looked down at Troy, sitting on the ground with dead Mike in his arms. Her lips formed a word, but no sound left her mouth.

_You?_

Troy evaded her glance. Forcing himself to get up, he soon stood in front of her. His legs were shaky, his hands trembling, but he tried to appear calm. "Don't-" - she had to clear her throat before she could speak on. "Don't let my parents turn. Help them find peace."

_Just one bullet._

Again, Troy turned the gun in his hands, tilting his head while he looked at it. He could end it all here, have Gretchen watch it or... he raised his hand and pointed the barrel at her chest.  
Again, they looked at each other, only their positions had changed. When he listened closely, Troy could still hear her sobbing quietly. Then she broke the silence again.  
"I won't tell anyone."

Troy took a sharp breath and bit his lips, because he knew the depth of those words. He knew that she meant it. She would witness him murder her whole family and still be loyal to him.  
But how could she? Wouldn't someone, somehow break her, when they asked the right questions?  
"No you won't," he answered, his voice hoarse again.

"I didn't want to leave. I'll come back with you."  
She seemed so calm all of a sudden. As if she knew what was going to happen.

"No you won't," Troy repeated and pulled the trigger.

_Forty._

He didn't even shoot her in the head. Hot tears ran down his cheeks when he realized what he had done. And also what he had not done. And then he left. All of a sudden his feet carried him fast, over to his rifle on the ground, and then back to his horse. Once he was mounting the mare, he didn't look back anymore. His inner voice turned rational: He had to return. He had no bullets left, it was dangerous out unarmed. He had to change his clothes. Wash the blood off his hands. Jimmie would ask questions. He would say he encountered the undead. He would prove he wasn't bitten and Jimmie wouldn't question it.

Nobody would know what happened the night.  
Nobody would ever understand it.

\---

 **Troy:** All I've ever had in my- my whole life is this- this place and these people.  
Anyone who leaves is dead to me. Now, Mike, he was- he was soft, but he was-  
He's been my friend since I was a kid. He stayed in school when I got- I got pulled.  
But he never quit on me. Never. Even when others did.

 **Madison:** He didn't quit on you, Troy.  
He just stood by his family.

 **Troy:** He wouldn't look at me.  
He just- Hard to know how to react to something like that.

 **Troy:** I didn't go out there to do that, I swear.  
I- He owed me. He had to look me directly in the eye.  
He had to say it to my face. He owed me that.

 **Troy:** Mike- he said some things, and I did some things. Then it went bad.  
Not what you want to hear, is it?


End file.
